Chapter Two
Beau
It’s tempting, so fucking tempting to let Ares and Athena keep the man pinned, but I know better.
I don't know who started this or what happened before I got here, and if my time as a cop taught me anything, it’s that assumptions get people in trouble.
So I call them off with a sharp whistle.
They immediately pull away from the man, and he doesn’t waste a second before stumbling back through the desert as fast as his injured leg can carry him.
Ares and Athena join Zeus and Hermes, who are standing guard by the shivering woman hiding in the bushes.
For some reason, they’ve assigned themselves as her guard, surrounding her but making no move to engage with her.
They can smell her fear, no doubt about it, and that’s probably why they refuse to leave her alone.
Interesting.
I file away the information for later as I approach her, and when she whimpers, shrinking deeper into the bush, Athena’s eyes find mine, and I can’t tell whether it’s warning or protectiveness over this stranger. Choosing a wounded little bird over her owner.
“Please,” the little bird whimpers. “Please don’t hurt me. Please.”
She looks so small and fragile, hiding behind the bushes, thick dark hair spilling around her face and framing eyes that are the startling blue of a winter sky. They are wide, swimming with fear that sends a pang through me. Her small frame trembles as she draws her arms tightly around herself.
“Hey,” I call out, my voice soft, trying to project calm, but even as the words leave my mouth, I see her flinch, her eyes widening even more, the blue depths clouding with suspicion.
She doesn’t trust me, I see it in the way she instinctively recoils, pressing herself further into the bush. “Are you alright?”
“He took her,” she whispers, rocking back and forth, tears dripping down her cheeks. “Oh my God, he took her! He’s going to hurt her—”
“Miss,” I call out sharply, cutting through the hysteria. Then, in a softer tone, “What’s your name?”
“Rosalie,” she answers, turning when Ares nudges his head against her arm. She lifts her hand to brush it over the dog, rubbing at his fur even as tears drip silently down her cheeks. “I need to call the cops. That man kidnapped my friend.”
“Let me help you first,” I tell her, but I stay in place. “My name is Donovan. Beau Donovan. I’ll help you call the cops, but first, we need to get you out of here. Do you know where you are?”
“I...” She looks around, brushing a hand through her hair as she turns. “No, I was at the house and—”
“You’re in Saguaro National Park,” I tell her. “Or close enough to it. My property borders it on one side.”
How she managed to cut so far into the park and cross onto my property without seriously injuring herself is a mystery to me. “Let’s get you safe, then we’ll call the cops. Okay?”
“Yeah...I...okay.”
She braces her hand against Ares and climbs to her feet even as the dogs maintain their positions around her. She seems comfortable around them, so I let her be, turning to take the lead on the walk to my house.
The dogs keep a loose circle around her for the rest of the walk and don’t move from her side until we’re inside my house.
I get a better look at the woman beneath the light, and fucking hell, she’s stunning.
Her thick hair in the color of a deep red wine, the fiery depths still striking even mussed with dirt and sweat.
And those eyes...
Beautiful like the rest of her. For a moment, I question whether the stir I feel in my chest has anything to do with my lack of human contact for months. I haven’t seen a woman as gorgeous as this one in a very long time. Maybe never.
“Are you injured?” I ask, shoving back the awareness that threatens to bloom.
“I...no. I don’t think so.”
“Will you let me check?”
She hesitates, but only for a second before finally nodding. “I need to call the cops first and report what happened.”
“I’m a cop,” I tell her, clearing my throat when her eyes shoot to mine. “Was. Former cop. Why don’t you tell me what happened, and I’ll make that call for you.”
Hope lights her face in a way that sends my heart drumming. Fuck!
“You’ll do that? You promise?”
“Yes,” I say with a nod. “Why don’t you sit and let me check you for injuries as you tell me what happened and who that man was?”
“Okay.”
All suspicion seems to disappear now that she knows I was a cop, someone with connections on the force.
She sits down when I direct her to the couch and doesn’t react when I crouch in front of her to inspect the tear on her jeans, which luckily didn’t break the skin.
I take her hands when I notice the scratching on her palms and wrists.
They’re scraped pretty badly, raw and red, with little flecks of dirt and grit embedded in the skin.
It should hurt, but she seems to be in too much shock to feel the burn.
“I’ll grab the first aid kit.”
She sits patiently as I grab the kit and a bottle of water from the kitchen, thanking me when I pass it to her. “That man kidnapped my best friend.”
I kneel down beside her as I open the kit. “What happened?” I ask, taking out some sterile wipes and hoping to distract her from the pain of her injuries. “Tell me everything.”
“Kristin. That’s my roommate and best friend,” she starts, flinching when I begin to clean the abrasions.
“She and I work together as waitresses at a diner in town. So yesterday, we were working the morning shift when this guy showed up claiming to be a photographer who works with models. He tells us how he was walking by when he spotted two beautiful women through the window and he saw something special in us.” Her voice turns bitter, and I hear a hint of anger in it.
“It was all a load of bullshit, but when I turned to Kristin, she had this look in her eyes. Like she believed him, and it made me swallow what I wanted to say. She’s always wanted to be a model. ”
Her tears fall, silently now, and she barely notices when Ares nudges his head against her knee. “Kristin was excited and couldn’t stop asking questions, and when the man gave us his card, I saw her eyes light up. This is her dream.”
“She went to him?”
“He tricked her!” she says fiercely, firing those stunning blue eyes at me that carry resentment even with the tears.
“I wanted to stop her, but it was her dream. Besides, it was only going to be a photoshoot. A couple of hours taking professional pictures, and then she’d be famous like she’s always wanted to be. ”
“When did she go out to meet him?” I ask, reaching for the bandages.
“Yesterday afternoon,” she says, her eyes dropping to watch me apply the bandage.
“She burst into my room while I was getting ready for my shift and tried to get me to go with her. I told her I had to work and couldn’t just leave.
I figured she’d be back before I got home and...
Oh God, I can’t believe I let her go alone! ”
“Hey—”
“I’m such a terrible friend,” she sobs, turning her face to her shoulder. “I should have stopped her. I should...maybe if I’d gone with her, then this would never have happened. When I got home, she wasn’t there. She’d made me food before she left and...”
“Did you call her?”
“Not immediately,” she admits sorrowfully.
“I figured the shoot was running late, so I sent her a text asking her to call me when she was done. But she never answered. I waited all night for her to come home, and when I called, I was sent straight to voicemail. By this morning, I knew something was wrong.”
“How did you find the man?”
“Kristin and I share our locations with each other on a tracking app for safety, so I could see the last location where Kristin was before her phone was turned off. I decided to go check it out. I was almost relieved when I saw her car outside the house. Until that man...he told me he kidnapped my friend, and he tried to lock me in his place, but I pepper sprayed him and ran out. I hit him with my bag and dropped it while I was trying to get away. My phone, wallet, and ID were all inside.”
“You did well,” I tell her, squeezing her knee.
“I didn’t save Kristin,” she whispers. “I didn’t stop that man from taking my friend.”
“This is not your fault, and it’s not your friend’s either. She just trusted the wrong guy,” I assure her, keeping my eyes firmly on hers so she can read the truth in them. “Tell me everything you know about the man’s house, and then I’ll make that call.”
She gives me as much detail as she can remember and a clear description of the man.
I leave her in the company of the dogs as I step outside to make the call to a friend still on the police force.
I watch her through the screen door as the call connects, skipping the chatter and detailing everything Rosalie told me.
He tells me he’ll look into it himself, then warns me not to let her leave, he’s coming out to take Rosalie’s statement in person.
Of course she can’t go home, that man has her wallet, including her ID. She can’t go home and she’s in no state to be alone.
It’s going to be a long night.
I don’t immediately go back inside when the call ends.
Instead, I stand outside and watch through the screen door as Athena climbs onto the couch and lays her head on Rosalie’s lap.
The other three dogs settle by her feet, comforting her in ways I never trained them to do.
I shove my hands into my pockets and watch the scene play out, wondering why the hell it paints such a perfect picture.
And then those stunning eyes glance up, locking with mine through the door.
The force of her gaze slams into me with such intensity that it’s a wonder I don’t stagger back.
There is a vulnerability about her, a raw, exposed fear that makes me want to shield her, to wrap her in something warm and safe.
To keep her with me.